


some things never change, huh?

by pachimation



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Regency, Comic, F/F, Fan Comics, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23632528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pachimation/pseuds/pachimation
Summary: Tales from another time, another life.( an anthology of alternate universe one-shots )
Relationships: Beet | Bede & Yuuri | Gloria, Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan, Mary | Marnie/Yuuri | Gloria, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 18
Kudos: 77





	1. may i have this dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, they dance through these well worn steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short Marnie/Gloria, Regency-ish AU comic


	2. Loyal to the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Headmaster’s faith in him was not misplaced. 
> 
> Bede makes sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A self-indulgent Harry Potter AU/attempt at hand lettering. Rose, Oleana, and Bede were all sorted into Hufflepuff in this AU. I felt like it fit their character motivations the most, especially dedication and loyalty. I really wanted to write from the perspective of a pre-character development Bede who's hopelessly clinging onto his loyalty to Rose that he's willing to put aside morals. Or something like that.
> 
> There’s a lot of backstory and context that isn’t shown, so I’ll just summarize it quickly here and possibly go into detail with another comic later: Bede was orphaned by the Second Wizarding War and put into a muggle orphanage, but Rose (the headmaster of Hogwarts) finds him and supports him. He also leaves Bede the watch as a gift when they first meet. When Bede enters Hogwarts, Rose entrusts him with the task of collecting the wishing stars scattered around campus and in the Forbidden Forest. 
> 
> He and Gloria have a complicated relationship, and she tries to stop him from collecting the wishing stars when it endangers himself or other students. This takes place in fifth or sixth year, probably, and both Gloria and Bede are prefects.


	3. hiraeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raihan can no longer return to the past, but he can still look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't choose between a reincarnation AU or a medieval AU, so I did both.
> 
> This was sort of an experiment with animating and a more stream-of-conciousness narration, not to mention me finally writing Raihan/Leon. 
> 
> Formatting this was a pain on so many levels, so I probably won't do something like this again (unless I do), and I probably won't pepper another fic with so many gifs.
> 
> Not proofread because I wasted all my time and energy finishing that one (1) walk-cycle, but I hope you still enjoy!

4 AM.

The heat in the room is unbearable. Somewhere by the door, an electric fan hums loudly, sputtering and half dead.

Well, you get what you pay for.

The sky outside is still dark and the city quiet.  Raihan tosses and turns over for the umpteenth time that night. It's one of those inescapable heat waves, the kind that makes you wish you could rip your skin off if it meant refuge from the relentless heat.

He was sleeping naked, of course. They both were.

Leon snores from under the covers, nothing but thin linen sheets protecting their modesty from the FBI agents watching through the desktop webcam. 

At least, that's Leon's argument for sleeping under  _ anything _ in this cloying summer heatwave. Raihan's already kicked it half off, Leon's insistence on government agent peepers dissuading enough to leave a little sliver of cloth.

It's kind of like one of those old Renaissance art pieces, Raihan thinks. The composition, the light streaming from the blinds hitting his body just right, it's all rather fucking artistic. He was there when Michelangelo was sculpting  _ David _ , he should know a thing or two about art.

His hand is fumbling around the nightstand for his phone reflexively, and it's only when he sees the time stamped across his lockscreen, LED display blurring his vision, that he realizes it just might not be the best idea in the world to take a selfie right now. 

What the hell was he even going to do with it?

Raihan settles for taking a quick picture of Leon's sleeping face instead.

It's a rare expression of serenity that ends the moment Leon furrows his brow.

"...Where's the...candy..." Leon mumbles out more, but it's completely incomprehensible. A bit of mumbling and grumbling later, he's back to snoring. 

Leon snores loud, but it's better than when he's moving around in his sleep.

If Raihan got a nickel every time Leon woke him up with a misplaced elbow to the gut or a kick off the bed, he'd buy a better electric fan.

The sound of cars echo from some miles away. A firetruck rushes past the corner, flashing lights jolting Raihan out of his growing drowsiness. He groans.

How long has he been trying to sleep?

Sweat sticks his joints together uncomfortably when he tries to reposition himself and his joints pop loudly in the dead air.

Raihan sighs, throwing a leg off the bed. 

The air's cooler down there, by a fraction of a degree, and he considers just rolling off the bed. At this point, he'd do anything to escape the oppressive heat. 

The electric fan gently brushes a breeze against his skin, doing little else than irritate him.

In the still, dead air, Raihan wonders when he became so weak. When heat like this stopped being pleasantly cool, when walking on the ground stopped being such a chore.

When, in the many centuries past, did he embrace this human form?

—

" _ O weak and puny human, it seems from the look in your eyes, you wish to slay me. Though I will not hesitate to char you to a crisp should you attempt so, I am of the generous sort. I'll allow you to walk back to your lands, back to your farm or castle or wherever it is you hail, totally unharmed.  _ " 

The human standing before him is barely a whelp, waving around a sword far too big for such a weakling. The armour on his body hangs loosely, the chainmail dwarfing him probably heavier than the boy himself. A knife swings on his belt, too tiny to make more than a nick if it even made it past his scales.

The kid is shaking like a leaf, and Raihan feels a distant irritation at whoever forced such a young child to face him. Someone like him was more a sacrifice than an adversary.

" _ Tell your king or your lord, who must have sent you unless you truly are just a fool, that the dragon will not hesitate to raze his lands if such a bother is sent to his cave again. I dislike eating children, boy, so take my generosity and leave my lair. _ "

Raihan lets out a huff of smoke for emphasis, his tail shunting the boy off in the direction of the cavern entrance. The sooner he was rid of the nuisance, the better.

Tiny hands push against his tail.

"I refuse," an even tinier voice speaks, soft but firm.

" _ You refuse? _ " Tongues of orange flame lick his maw, not so much of a threat as a promise as Raihan's eyes flash, pupils thin slashes in his electric blue glare. " _ Child, if you think you can slay me— _ "

"I have no intention, sire. I only wish to talk." The boy bows low.

A whelp with manners, yes, but absolutely no sanity, it seems.

" _ You will not slay me, and yet you will not leave? What are you here for, then? Are you so desperate for company? Is this perhaps what you humans call a ‘dare'? _ "

The boy chuckles, and Raihan decides the boy is certainly mad. Or perhaps insanely daft.

Shoulders still heaving in laughter, the boy shakes his head. "In a way, great one. No one dared me and no one sent me. No, I climbed to your mountain to make a request."

Raihan snarls, spraying sparks across the boy's face. " _ If you dare ask me to serve you like a common animal, boy, those will be your last words. _ "

"I do not wish for servitude, sire, I ask for companionship. I ask for you to accompany me, as an advisor of sorts."

" _ Child, I am ancient, older than the oldest tree in this forest. I have seen empires rise and fall, stars blink in and out of existence. What use will traveling with a human like you serve? _ "

Thinking hard about it, the boy's face suddenly beams with an idea. "Well then, O ancient dragon, older than the stones beneath our feet..." His eyes glimmer golden as his voice drops to a whisper. "When was the last time you left your cave? Saw the sights of the land, lived a little?"

" _ I am a dragon. I have no need to interact with humans more than I must, and I am sure there are no sights which your kind provide greater than that which you humans have erased. I doubt there is anything of worth outside the bounds of my forest. _ "

"So you've never given it a chance! Not all humans are destructive warmongers, sire. Don't allow the actions of few sour your view of the whole. Travel with me, and I shall show you the beauty of the outside world."

" _ What tells you that they will not immediately look at me and run away in fear? I am aware that I am a strange and terrifying creature; sooner will they attack the both of us than I be able to wander the earth in peace. _ "

"I know that humans fear all that is different from them. Therefore I will disguise you as one of us!"

This boy is completely mad. 

Raihan, no longer having any patience listening to the rambling of a madman, pushes the boy further away with his tail. The boy struggles weakly, metal armor scraping loudly against the stone floor.

It's no use, of course. Raihan looks away from the pitiful sight, trying to ignore the high pitched protests the boy makes. 

The weak struggle in vain at the might of the strong. It's the truth of the wilderness and of the humans. The child is lucky he isn't being eaten for wasting so much of Raihan's time.

" _ Leave me alone, boy, I have little patience for the fantasy of fools— _ "

A sharp stabbing pain throbs down his tail.

Raihan glares downwards, expecting the boy to be fumbling around with his large sword to have caused such pain, but it seems the child has stabbed a small dagger between the chinks in his scales. 

Before his fire breath can even flow from his throat, another wave of pain and nausea hits him. Raihan gnashes his teeth, a low roar rumbling from his throat as ice fills his veins and his muscles and bones twist in agony.

Has the brat poisoned him? Is this how he'll go, poisoned by the same weak child he pitied?

Perhaps he was not as strong as he fancied himself.

The fire in his throat has sputtered away completely, as Raihan feels an endless coldness flood through his body. White frosts over his vision, numbness filling his skin. He could barely lift a talon to attack, his limbs filled with lead and ice.

The poison floods his body so fast that Raihan knows he's a goner. He has no idea where such a young boy could even find so potent a poison.

" _ You dare poison me?! How foolish I was to believe the words of a human. How foolish I was to believe that a single scrap of good remained in you people. _ "

He can't feel anything anymore, not even pain. 

" _ You have all called me a monster, you humans, but I know who the true monsters are... _ "

What use was fighting, now? All the other dragons have given up, their bones sprouting forth new forests and mountains, only to be plundered by humans. 

What little beauty they could give in death was only snuffed out. Raihan, as far as he knew, was the only survivor now. Hiding in caves and mountains, far from the eye of humans, had bought him a scant few centuries. He had attacked all who wished him harm, but no more.

He thought his rules of survival harsh. Perhaps they were not harsh enough.

Whatever. 

He accepts the inky haze of death. Welcomes it with open arms, even.

In such an ugly world, what use was living?

Raihan closes his eyes, allowing his muscles to slacken. Death would come at any time now.

"...Hey, what are you talking about?"

Any time now...

"I didn't poison you. At least I think so. You really should open your eyes up, sire."

Will this boy  _ ever _ stop talking? At least, the boy seems to speak the truth, if the quickly vanishing pain was any indication. He could feel his limbs once again, and the chill in his veins seems to have faded into only a mild chill.

Begrudgingly, Raihan follows his advice, opening up his eyes slowly. His vision is clear now, but something's still wrong. Warped, maybe.

The cavern ceiling seems so far away now, and so dark. He can barely see the child in the firelight, now, just the glimmer of gold eyes and his cheeky grin.

Also, the kid seems to have grown extremely  _ large _ . He's still below Raihan, of course, but much too close for comfort. 

"Why are you so large? W-what did you do, child?!"

There's something wrong with his voice. It's too far high to be his, and far too quiet. It pierces his ears harshly, almost human in how it sounds.

No,  _ exactly _ human.

"What did I do? Well, uh, I think I turned you into a human. Or at least something human-shaped. Which means the knife worked!" The boy beams, all sunshine and rainbows as Raihan slowly sits down on the ground, clutching his head in his hands.

This really can't be happening. 

Not only was he bested by a child an infinitesimal fraction of his age, not only did he concede defeat to that same boy, no, now he's been ripped from his powers and reduced to the form of the most  _ detestable _ vermin plaguing the earth. 

The rubble of the ground digs into his bare skin, because  _ of course _ he's been rid of his protective scales, and not even given a single scrap of clothing in exchange.

Raihan is halfway into the fetal position when he notices the small hand extended out towards him. It's so small and weak, he could probably bite it off in even this diminutive form.

He refrains.

If he kills this brat now, he might never return to his original form.

Raihan lets the boy attempt to pull him up a couple of times before he finally stands up on his own. The movement feels horribly awkward, as if his limbs have been chopped up and rearranged. 

Raihan doesn't remember his first steps, of course, that was nearly a millennium ago. But if he did remember his first steps, it would probably feel a lot like this.

The kid looks at him stand up, their hands still clasped together.

"Well, what's your name, O ancient dragon? I mean, I can't keep calling you that, unless you want to be found out right away."

Raihan is about to lie to the boy, give him some false name he had heard somewhere. 

(A true name is a thing of power, not lightly granted nor taken back.) 

But perhaps this human shell has softened his heart, or perhaps he sees far too much humility in the boy, that he worries little about the power this child could lord over him. Something tells him that this kid would never use it against him.

"Raihan. You can call me Raihan."

The boy beams even brighter. "Raihan... What a beautiful name!"

He shakes Raihan's hand, the loose armour on his body clattering loudly.

"Well, Raihan, my name's Leon. Nice to meet you!"

—

5 AM.

Morning's rosy fingers tickle the rooftop of the apartment building across the street, painting the world outside a striking pink.

Raihan's glad, as he is every morning, that his window faces west. It also helps that he gets a perfect view of the sunset over the mountain range each night.

Leon's still asleep, and he'll almost definitely be asleep for the next few hours, at the earliest. Saturday mornings only start at eleven, after all.

Raihan's sleep had been fitful and restless, but instead he makes the decision to just call it a night and get a headstart on making breakfast. It's a bit early, but the smell of good food cooking just might be able to wake Leon up at a healthy time.

Rent's cheap, dirt cheap, and his apartment makes that fact quite obvious. Alside from the forever broken AC, the next most obvious tell is that the kitchen is nothing but a sink, a stove, and a cabinet. Raihan managed to find a minifridge from an acquaintance, and it rests proudly on the countertop.

It's hard to find a good paying job when you're fudging your all papers, and even harder to keep it for any more than ten years.

Eternal youth has its benefits, but it was much more beneficial in the era where things like passports and birth certificates were, at the very least, much easier to forge.

Leon's been trying to get Raihan to rely on him more, even inviting Raihan to move in with him, but a dragon's pride is the one thing that has never changed over the centuries.

The oil in the pan sizzles and pops when he pours the egg and veggie mixture on it, hot droplets stinging the thin skin of his wrists.

"Ow! Damn oil..." 

If he were to go back in time and tell himself that in a thousand year or so, he'd be so weak that a bit of hot oil or sharp paper would be enough to make him howl, Raihan would've guffawed.

A dragon's pride was a constand, sure, but being humiliated like this on a daily basis was  _ definitely _ wearing away at his so-called dragon pride. After so many years, he's become comfortable in his weak and squishy prison. 

An acrid smell wafts through the air. Raihan looks down at the pan.

"Shit, the omlette's on fire."

—

This kid, Leon or whatever, is definitely a little slow on the uptake.

They're already halfway down the mountain when the kid suddenly turns red.

"Y-you're naked!" He sputters out the obvious.

"Yes. I am?" Raihan wonders where the boy is going with this. Nudity isn't particularly taboo to him, but if the boy had any issues with it, he should have said something before letting Raihan scale a rocky mountain barefoot.

He never imagined it would ever be so painful to walk barefoot. The harsh sunlight hitting the black stone has turned it searing hot, and every step seems to stab through him. Only a few hours ago, he could walk through hot lava and feel nothing through the armour of his scales. Now he was soft and fleshy, exposed to the elements.

How could humans bear to live like this?

His train of thought is interrupted by Leon's irritatingly squealing voice..

"You should—I'll uh—Here, wear this!"

There's a loud clattering sound as Leon sheds the oversized armour handing off of him. It seems to be the right size for Raihan, eyeballing it. 

The metal is uncomfortably cold against his bare skin, but at least he no longer has the sun beating down on his back. Leon gives him a pair of woolen socks to wear as well. They're a bit small, but the boy has no other foot coverings to lend him, so Raihan begrudgingly accepts.

"Did it really take you most of the mountain to realize my lack of clothing? I'm beginning to worry for our traveling prospects if I'm to follow such a dimwit."

Leon pouts. "I just forgot about it, okay? It's not everyday you see a humongous dragon turn into a handsome man, you know."

"Well, it's even rarer to be turned into a puny human by a brat barely old enough to swing a sword. Wait, handsome?"

"F-forget I said that! I, uh—"

"You may be stupid, but at least you're not blind. But of course, it's obvious a noble creature such as I should at least be given a form beautiful enough to make up for all the power stolen from me."

"I, uh, suppose so," Leon answers. "You must have been quite powerful, then."

Raihan sighs, his hand digging into the rubble of the mountain side. His nails are so pitifully short nubs now, so easily chipped by the mere effort of climbing down a mountain.

"Yes, I was. Boy, you don't live as long as I have without power."

"Say my name, Sir Raihan. It's only polite."

Ugh. Humans, so particular about their names. Many even had two, or more! What was the point? Rabbits and deer have no need for names. Why should humans?

Well, it doesn't hurt to bother remembering a couple of names. The sooner Raihan gets in his good graces, the sooner he gets his true form back. Hopefully.

"Leon, yes? Or do you have any other names I'm supposed to remember?"

Leon makes an odd half smile in response, just a small quirk of his lips. "I used to. Now it's just Leon, though."

"Do you humans typically  _ lose _ your names? Are there some odd human naming customs in these parts that I'm not aware of?"

Leon shakes his head. "Not quite. I'm a special case, you see, Sir Raihan."

"Special?" Oh, heavens. What has he gotten himself involved in?

"The royal family is... not in the tradition of keeping a surname, you might be aware."

Raihan was not aware.

"You—Did you say royal family? Those annoying blokes who've been sending those so called ‘dragon slayers' after me for the last few decades?"

"The very same! But I wasn't born into royalty, you see."

"Looking at you, it's a little obvious you weren't, yes."

The boy chooses to ignore him, continuing, "Have you heard of Caledfwlch?"

"Gesundheit."

"...Um, what did you say?"

"Isn't that what you humans say to others when they sneeze?"

"What? I didn't sneeze. No, Sir Raihan, Caledfwlch—"

"Gesundheit."

" _ Caledfwlch _ , as I was saying, is a legendary sword that was embedded in a stone in the Slumbering Weald for the last couple decades. Magnolia, the court wizard, foretold that the one who pulled it out from the stone was to be the rightful heir to the throne. But even then, there's been an ongoing war for the succession. None of the king's children have been able to pull the sword out."

Raihan groans. Humans and their obtuse fixation on royalty, as if proper leadership was something passed down in blood. 

"Oh, is  _ that _ why it's been so quiet around here? I was beginning to think you humans had forgotten about me."

A flash of silver catches Raihan's eye, and his vision drifts down to the polished sword sitting in the scabbard on the boy's hip.

"And I take it that you're the one who pulled the sword from the stone? The rightful heir to the throne, the new king; this explains your odd name change, at least. I can only assume that this is somehow connected to your jaunt to my lair."

"In a way, yes. But I don't seek your power at all!"

"You don't? Untold numbers have appeared to me, bothering me with requests for favors. You're the first to get the better of me, I admit, Leon."

"Oh, yeah, the dagger. You see, I never planned on climbing up here and asking you to join me; that would be rather presumptuous of me."

"Presumptuous?" Raihan snorts. "...At least you're aware of it."

"But a bit after I pulled Caledfwlch from the stone in the Slumbering Weald, the court wizard sent me off to the Glimwood Tangle, to talk to the old witch, Opal."

"Oh, I've actually heard of her. Many stories drift up to my mountain, many of which about her fairy magic. Tricky folk, the fae. I can assume she's the one who trusted a runt like you that dagger. Crazy old hag, and even crazier magic."

" _ Hey _ . Madame Opal told me that she had foreseen my future, or at least part of it. She told me that she saw me standing aside a dragon, as equals. That I would be the king to unite these lands, but only if I could show the lord of the mountains the overlooked beauty found underfoot in the world of us people."

A prophecy from that forest crone was not to be taken lightly, but Raihan still has his doubts. What does  _ he _ have to do with the court of humans?

Leon continues, oblivious to Raihan's skepticism. "She gave me the dagger, and told me that if I gave it a drop of my blood, and then used it to pierce your flesh, you would be given a form of human flesh! And well, here you are!"

A drop of blood?

Ancient blood spells were fearsome things,  _ binding _ things. It was the tying of one soul to another, something the tricky fae rarely used themselves. There must truly be a threat, not only to the world of humans but to the rest of the world as well, if Opal was relying on such messy magic.

"Did the hag—I mean,  _ Opal _ , tell you how I could return back to my original form. After the whole ‘uniting the land' mess, I suppose?"

"She, uh, didn't say. I didn't ask. I could take you to her later! It's a little ways away from our original route, but it should be less than a week's detour if we keep a good pace!"

"We should hurry up, then."

The two of them reach the base of the mountain by nightfall, rocky craig blending into the tangled forest undergrowth. The canopy blots out the darkening afternoon sky, and Raihan now more than ever misses his keen darkvision. He misses his ripping fangs, his tearing claws, the eternal fire in his throat.

In the distance, somewhere, forest creatures scamper around. The sounds of snapping twigs and rustling leaves, once nothing but background noise, suddenly becomes a warning of very serious danger.

He'd known of humans who were gored by deer, eaten by wolves...

Back when he was an immortal beast laughing from on top of a mountain, such goings were nothing but temporary entertainment.

What did he have to protect himself now? A small child with a rusty old sword? Some ill-fitting armour and his bare hands?

Raihan shivers. Leon must think he does so because of the night chill, because the boy offers him the torch.

"Something to keep you warm. You look cold."

Raihan accepts it, and though it offers little warmth to more than his fingers, the flame is a familiar sight.

—

The spinach omelettes sizzle in the pan. He pours some bacon bits in too.

Sure, Leon keeps going on and on about eating healthier, but he's gotten veggies in there, doesn't he?

Raihan's got the news channel switched on the telly, nothing else good playing so early in the morning. It's the weather segment right now.

It's a record breaking heatwave. Apparently, no one's seen anything like it since ‘77.

The weather man makes a show of it, theatrically gesturing to the temperature as if everyone isn't currently dying of heat stroke.

Raihan scoffs.

"What a fucking lie."

He remembers that summer.

1977 was practically refreshing compared to this blaze.

(Or perhaps he's been growing weaker.)

—

The little hamlet called Ballonea sat on the very outskirts of the Glimwood Tangle, the characteristic bioluminescent mushrooms dotting buildings and footpaths. Side by side, humans and forest folk lived and worked in this village, the gateway to the realm of the fae.

It is here that Opal has lived for the last couple centuries, providing her wisdom and judgement for the sake of maintaining this balance.

Raihan, quite honestly, considered her a few mushrooms short of a bushel.

"Young Leon, I see that the dagger I lent you worked!" Opal doesn't even turn around from her tapistrywork when the two of them walk up to her. With a wave of her hand, she sends away her attendants who had led them to her isolated grove.

"Yeah, old lady, it worked a bit too well. Maybe you didn't think this through completely, or something, but this meat prison makes me about as useful as a sack of flour!" Raihan could hear his own voice climbing in pitch as all his anxiety from the last few weeks was let loose. "No claws, no teeth, no fire, no power... You took  _ everything _ that made me a dragon from me!"

A sharp rap on his head shuts him up. Opal looks up at him, wooden umbrella clutched in her hand threateningly.

"Foolish boy. It seems that thousands of years of experience has taught you nothing." She barks out a laugh. " Have you no pride as a dragon? No wisdom from your many years of life?"

"You just told me that I've been taught nothing!"

"Hmph. Either way, it's no quality of your's as a dragon that's necessary."

Opal tugs at a thread in her tapestry as she continues. "The boy needs you. I don't know why, the stars don't show me all, but the only thing that matters is that the two of you  _ must _ meet. Only the two of you together can avert disaster."

"I heard from Leon all that jabber about uniting the lands and whatnot, but what happens if I choose to abandon the kid right now?" Somewhere behind him, Leon lets out a strangled squeal. Raihan ignores him.

"The balance will be upturned, the land thrown into disorder, and even magical creatures such as you or I will be at the risk of being wiped out completely. It would be utter chaos. The end of days."

"So where does the two of us meeting and working together, or whatever it was, come into play?"

"I have no idea."

"I don't have time for this nonsense. Leon, kid, this is why you shouldn't trust the fae."

"...Raihan? Where are you going?"

Raihan's back is already turned to her, and his feet taking him back to Ballonea proper when Opal speaks again. 

"I wouldn't leave if I was you."

Gone is any hint of a playful lilt from her voice, but Raihan's no longer listening. Irritation and confusion swirl in his head; the urgency of the situation is obvious, but why must she be so  _ damn _ vague? Telling him to stick to this kid, telling him that this will somehow avert disaster...

"Dragon, do you not wish to free yourself of my spell? When I wove those ancient spells into that dagger, I also wove in the way to break it."

"You do? Then tell me!"

Opal tuts loudly, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Patience, you silly boy. I'll tell you now, but do know that perhaps by the time you are able to break it, you may not even wish to."

Raihan scoffs at the ridiculous notion. No matter what happens, nothing would keep him from returning to his true form in a heartbeat.

Nothing at all.

—

The rain's washed away almost all of the blood.

More keeps coming out.

Will it ever stop flowing?

Raihan's hands are at Leon's chest. T-this is how you staunch bleeding, right? Apply pressure? Gauze... He doesn't have any on him, but any cloth will do, right?

What is he doing? He's no doctor.

He's no doctor, and  _ God _ , why isn't there a doctor here? Here, in the castle courtyard? The empty castle. Where is  _ anyone _ ?

They should have— 

Leon gasps a little, a raspy sound barely audible over the loud crashing of thunder above. The blood begins flowing even harder and Raihan presses his hand even harder to his chest.

He should have—

"Raihan." Leon's voice is a weak croak. With every syllable, blood spurts from the gaping hole in his chest.

"Stop. Stop talking, Leon." Where is  _ anyone _ ? Why is no one coming to help? "Just stay with me. Don't—Don't close your eyes."

"You can... break the spell, now, can't you?"

Raihan freezes, the dagger on his belt suddenly feeling far too heavy.. "What the hell are you talking about? Joking like this now, of all times..." He tries to laugh. It comes out hollow and jerky, mechanical. Nothing about this situation is funny.

"I'm going to die, soon. I know it. This is your chance to escape, Raihan. Do it now, before it's too late."

Raihan wants to throttle Leon. Why was this what he was talking about, when there was a hole in his chest? Why must he always act so selflessly, even as he never stopped to consider that Raihan might not want to break the spell anymore.

What a stupid, heroic, fool.

"Stop talking, _you_ _idiot_. Before it's too late? I still haven't beat you in a sword fight. I still haven't beat you in a foot race. I haven't shown you the sunset in Hulbury. The meteor showers over Hammerlocke. You aren't getting rid of me so easily. There's so much we still have to do, Leon. Together."

"...I'm sorry, Raihan. I really am."

"Stop  _ talking _ . Concentrate on staying alive."

"I have to leave you soon."

"No, you don't. Stay with me, Leon."

"I can't, Raihan. You know that. But you can finally free yourself. Without regrets."

Raihan's grip on Leon tightens. How moronic his king is. Is this truly how Leon thinks of him?

"Are you stupid? No regrets?" He pulls Leon closer to him, so close he can see the shallow rise and fall of Leon's chest as he weakly breathes. "Leon, I'll regret freeing myself. I'll regret... I'll regret leaving you."

"And if I leave you first? What will you do then?"

What will he do? Raihan wants to yell at him. He wants to scream and cry and make Leon take back his words. Tell Raihan he'll be alright. But both of them know he'd be lying.

So Raihan collects his thoughts and steadies the shaking in his voice.

"...I'll wait, Leon. I'll wait, no matter how long it takes. You—You'll come back, won't you?"

"...Of course." Leon's voice is a strained whisper.

"You aren't going to leave me right now, are you? We're going to stay together for a bit longer. We're going to see the sunset at Hulbery, like you promised me. Right, Leon?"

Leon is silent, or perhaps his voice has been drowned out completely by the rain.

"Leon?"

His eyes are still open, but Raihan knows he's already gone. He's left him.

_ Take me with you _ , Raihan wants to shout.  _ Don't leave me behind _ .

Wind whips arounds him as he clings on to Leon, cradling him as if this would somehow stop the blood from spilling out of him, return his heartbeat, fill his lungs with breath. Are those tears on his face, or just the pouring rain? Would knowing make any difference?

Raihan's powerless. He's painfully, embarrassingly, completely, utterly,  _ fucking _ powerless.

He's powerless, and now he's alone.

He's powerless, he's alone, and now all he can do is wait. Wait for Leon, no matter how long.

Even if it takes decades, centuries, millenia, Raihan will wait for Leon.

Because he knows that they'll meet again.

—

"...So that's the way to break my curse? That doesn't sound too hard."

Opal stands up, pressing the end of her parasol into Raihan's chin. She may have the appearance of an old, frail woman, but her subtle movement causes the forest itself to audibly hush and even Raihan can't help but hold his breath.

"Do you really think that? Do you think it so easy, to entrust your heart to another?" Opal's gaze is steely, but Raihan won't be intimidated by some old hag.

"I mean, you did say it was basically destiny. So it shouldn't be that hard."

"...Will you be able to harm him, then? Draw his blood with the same dagger?"

"Er... As long as the kid says I can, I suppose. Right, Leon?"

"You're not going to kill me, right? It should be fine."

"See? He says it's fine."

Opal sighs, eyeing the both of them with an unreadable expression. "...I hope the two of you feel the same when the time comes."

—

The radio's been saying 1977 might be the year of a record breaking heatwave. 

Raihan doesn't really care. It seems like they say that every year. Maybe the Earth's just getting hotter.

He has worse problems, anyway: This new gig at the little grocery store's been the fucking  _ worst _ .

Angry customers yelling at him about something or another, day in and day out. If it wasn't the customers, it was his manager, telling him he was stocking the shelves wrong, or making too much small talk with his coworkers or the nicer customers. Not a single second to relax or even think.

When he gets home, back to his cheap housing complex populated by overworked college students doing their best to skimp on expenses, he's greeted by the sight of mold stained walls of his empty one-room apartment.

His kitchen was bare, stocked with the minimum to keep up with appearances and give him something to nibble on when he was bored. Other than that, he doesn't eat. He doesn't need to eat at all, really. 

One of the benefits of immortality, one of the few perks of being a dragon that had stuck with him. He wasn't completely impervious, but he's been stabbed enough times to know that death shouldn't really be that big a concern of his.

He keeps the dagger slipped under his mattress. Raihan doesn't like looking at it much.

Too many old memories.

He remembers what Opal had told him, about breaking the spell put upon him. 

Even if he did find Leon again, would he even want to return to being a dragon? What would he gain? Where would he live?

The mountain he once called home was torn down ages ago. He hears they built a power plant on top of it. The Glimwood Tangle might be a good place to hide, ever since Opal pulled a few strings to make it an animal sanctuary a decade ago. It's been untouched ever since.

But what was the point? The world's left him behind. Being forced into hiding would be even more humiliating than being stuck in this flesh prison of a body.

If he met Leon again, what would he do?

Deep down, Raihan knows the answer. It's stupid, illogical. 

(That's what he had told Opal when she gave him this option, back in that grove all those years ago.)

—

Leon had left first. He needed to use the bathroom.

Just go in the forest, Raihan had told him. Opal and Leon's glares had shut him up, but magical or not, a forest is a forest, right? Just call it fertilizer or something, right?

His departure left Raihan alone with a rather sour looking Opal.

"Are you  _ sure _ you wish to return to your original form, boy?"

Well, that came out of nowhere. Raihad looks back at her from where he had been fiddling with the fraying edges of her tapestry.

"...I'm  _ extremely _ certain of that, old hag."

"Then I suppose you wouldn't want to hear another method of breaking the spell upon you."

_ Riiiip _ . Okay, maybe he should stop pulling on the threads, but she should really stop saying such startling things so suddenly.

"What the hell are you going on about? Of course I do! Is it easier?"

"Yes, in a way, it is easier. Perhaps not to you, though"

"Just tell me already."

"You must know, however, that you won't return to your original form. No, you'll be turned into a full, mortal human."

That fucking changes everything. What would the point of that be? He'd be left in an even worse situation!

"Oh. Well, I don't want to hear it then."

"Well, I'll tell you anyway," Opal's clawed hand hooks onto his shoulder before he can walk away, pulling him back to face her.

"Not listening."

"Compared to your other option, this method is rather simple. The conditions are the same, of course, so you can't do it right now—"

" _ Why _ would I want to?!"

"—but you will know the time is right, if the stones embedded on the hilt have begun to glow red."

"You told me about this earlier, yeah."

"When that happens, all you have to do is throw the dagger away. It doesn't matter how, bury it, toss it into the river, melt it for scrap. Just renounce it, and you will become a full human."

"Opal, I know I lack all of your ancient fairy wisdom that seems to dictate all your decisions and actions, but that sounds like an extraordinary  _ terrible _ idea."

—

Raihan pulls the dagger out from under the mattress. The radio's still blaring nonsense about heatwave this, war that.

The jewels inlaid in the hilt are still a deep, endless, pitch black. Not a speck of red.

How many centuries have they been like this? Empty, devoid of light?

Raihan doesn't keep track. It'd hurt more, knowing how long he's been waiting for something that may never even happen.

But he does know the dagger's been dark, ever since—

Ever since—

—

The sunset over Hulbury might be the most beautiful one you could find in this kingdom.

The waning light hits the sea along the horizon at just the right angle, scattering it into an infinite rainbow of colours that fill the harbour with a dazzling display of sparkles.

This only lasts a minute, maybe two if you're lucky.

Raihan's only lucky to catch this fleeting sight because he's in town, wrapping up some trade deal or another. Nessa tells him to go out to the harbour to inspect merchandise, which he does happily. He's had enough of listening to surly old men argue about the exchange of gold.

His feet are dipped in the water, the tide lapping up right up against the edge of the docks. The merchants told him to sit and wait a bit, while they unpack their goods.

Maybe they think they can butter him up by showing him the beautiful sunset. Maybe convince him to price their goods a bit higher by putting him in a good mood.

To be honest, he really doesn't care about the ins and outs of the economy, and he isn't even the guy deciding the prices. 

The sunset  _ does _ put him in a good mood, though.

"Leon should see this," Raihan mumbles, putting it on his mental list of places to drag Leon to when he wasn't off being busy and ruling the kingdom. 

Really, he puts way too much effort into it. The previous kings just sat on their thrones, taking money from the poor, and pushing work onto other people. Y'know, normal monarchy stuff.

The kingdom was prospering, and throughout the world, Galar was renowned for its beauty and peaceful times. Leon's done enough work to last a thousand lifetimes.

It really wouldn't kill Leon a little to take a break from whatever it is he's always doing. Keeping the kingdom from going off the rails, probably. Vanquishing monsters or encouraging children to make good decisions, maybe.

Well, a week's break probably won't hurt anybody. Leon could use the time off to relax or something, and Raihan would finally be able to hang out with, for old time's sake.

It's been what, ten years since Leon finally became king? Probably more, now that he thinks about it.

Jeez, it seems like Leon was a snot nosed brat just yesterday. Now he's off on his own, all grown up, ruling a kingdom better than so many generations of kings did before him.

It makes Raihan a little lonely, sometimes, and a little jealous too. Back then, before Leon was crowned, it was just the two of them making their rounds through Galar. It was back then that their little rivalry had bloomed.

Neither of them can quite remember what had started it all. It was probably over something stupid, a hunting contest or a race, maybe. Leon had told Raihan that he was the only one allowed to beat him, and Raihan promised him the same.

Every time one of them improved at something, the other wouldn't be too far off.

Recently, though, it feels like Leon's gone and left him behind. Raihan hasn't beat him anything in years, although it's not like anyone  _ else _ has beaten him at anything yet.

It's probably also the fear of committing lèse-majesté that keeps everyone else from trying. (Not that Leon would care about formalities like that.)

As much as Raihan worries that Leon's abandoning him, he knows that he's still as special to Leon as he is to Raihan. He has proof, actually.

The hilt of the dagger strapped to his belt glows red like coals.

Oh, but Raihan doesn't plan on breaking his spell until he beats Leon at  _ something _ . He plans on being the victor of their little rivalry, no matter how long it takes.

—

Leon has a little brother named Hop. He's four and a quarter years old and he can already run faster than a sheepdog.

Leon says this fact while puffing his chest out proudly when the two of them go back to Leon's hometown to visit before heading off to Wyndon. Raihan doesn't quite see what there is to be proud about, considering that Hop was the one growing up, not Leon.

Postwick is a sleepy little town, only a handful of houses dotting the vast farmland. Sheep herding seems to be the main way of life here, and pastures fence the dirt streets.

The sheep are fluffy and fat, and look incredibly delicious. Of course, he'd probably make himself ill if he tried to eat one of those tasty looking morsels rare, not to mention the earful Leon would give him later.

The two of them have been hanging around for a day already. Leon's home is rather large compared to the surrounding buildings, but apparently his family has lived on the land for so many generations, their house grew with the family.

Leon's mother, although somewhat surprised to find her child traveling with a strange adult man, gave the two a warm welcome. There was a big feast at his house, large enough to fill their rather spacious garden to the brim as relatives, both direct and distant, brought their own dishes and pulled up a seat to the table.

Humans might be the bane of his existence, but  _ damn _ do they know how to throw a party. (And cook mutton. This stuff was way more delicious than when he was just gulping them down, fur and all.)

He finally gets to sleep on a proper bed, too. Leon's been talking them up while they were staying in roadside inns or camping, saying that nothing compares to the softness of a wool blanket and a good mattress. 

Raihan's never cared too much about what he slept on or where, but it was nice to finally get a full night's sleep after almost half a month traveling from dawn to dusk.

The two of them had awoken sometime near noon, the combination of fatigue from traveling and the hearty feast from the night before wiping them out the moment their heads touch the pillows.

Leon awoke first, promptly dragging Raihan out to the pastures the moment he was done changing out of his borrowed night clothes.

The sky, like the pastures, is dotted with fluffy white shapes. The two of them make a game of spotting shapes in the clouds as they lie on their backs in the grassy hill, and Raihan decides that maybe not everything outside of his cave is as awful as he makes it out to be.

Between pretend sword fights with sticks and fishing in the cold, clear water of the stream running through the village, Leon shows Raihan his favorite spots to sleep, to climb, and to walk. He takes Raihan to an abandoned house covered all over in rose bushes, and tells him ghost stories.

"...and they say you can still hear her spirit, calling out for her missing child—"

A high pitched voice interrupts Leon's latest tale, as Hop rushes to where they're sitting at the steps of the old house. He's clutching something shivering bundled up in his overcoat.

"Hop, you didn't grab another baby lamb again, did you? Remember, Mom told you that you couldn't get a pet until you were big enough to herd the sheep." Leon's using his big brother voice, wagging his finger in the same way his mom had done whenever he did something mischievous.

Hop pouts, shaking his head. "No I didn't! It's not a wamb. See, wook! I founded a widdle puppy instead!"

The cloth unfolds to reveal what was obviously a baby wolf.

"U-uh, Hop?"

"Yeah, big bro?"

It yawns, revealing a full mouth of razor sharp fangs.

"Where did you find that?"

Hop points to the gates to the Slumbering Weald, which are unchained and hanging open. Raihan was certain that this had not been the case that morning.

—

After hours of hemming and hawing between their parents, blubbery tears from Hop, exaggerated theatrics from Leon, and some rather admirable displays of cuteness from the baby wolf, it was decided that Hop had a new pet.

"But Moooom! You said that Hop couldn't have any pets yet! And this one's a  _ wolf _ !" Leon clings to his mother's skirts as Hop runs off to think of new names for his new puppy.

"...Well, you are going to be away for quite a while, Leon, and the dog can help with herding the sheep."

"But—But what if Hop gets hurt? That thing's still a dangerous animal, we have no idea where it came from!"

His father pipes up from his spot by the fireplace, "Well, yes, it might be a bit wild an animal, son, but we think Hop needs a friend. It's only a pup, not some deadly snake, that he's playing with. Anyway, we are letting  _ you _ travel alone through the countryside in the company of a strange man."

Leon thinks for a minute, trying to come up with a clever retort. He looks at Raihan, expecting some kind of answer. Raihan shrugs, more focused on chewing through a particularly tough loaf of bread to care.

Leon sighs in defeat, "...Fine. But technically, Raihan's helping me navigate, so I'm safer with him than without. "

Hop runs back into the house, his puppy yapping at his heels.

"You think of a name for your, uh, dog?"

With a toothy grin, Hop lisps out, "If it's a wad, Victor, and if it's wass, Gworia!"

—

The pup is a girl, and thus she is christened Gloria.

She grows fast, and by the time Raihan sees her next, he knows for a fact that what Hop brought home wasn't some dog or even a wolf, no, it just had to be a motherfucking barghest.

—

When they get to Wyndon, after passing through what seems like every single town in this kingdom, Leon is coronated. It's a pretty quiet affair, all things considered. The current regent and mayor of Wyndon, some pudgy middle aged man named Rose, is pretty much tripping over his feet to give him the crown, although his assistant glares at the two of them the whole time.

Raihan doesn't trust him all too much, but he doesn't seem to cause any harm. Leon's fond enough of him.

They go on less adventures after Leon's crowned, and Raihan maybe wishes that they had spent more time passing through all those towns.

The moon wanes and waxes, seasons pass, and Leon grows up.

Of course, he's still pretty tiny compared to Raihan.

—

Were the dagger not by his side at all times, Raihan would have forgotten about his curse entirely.

Sometimes, he wakes up trying to scratch an itch on phantom wings. Incidents like that have been occurring less and less frequently, as time's gone on.

Was there ever a time before this?

In a way, obviously,  _ yes _ . But also, in another way—

The first day that Raihan had lived, actually  _ lived _ , like a being with thoughts and weaknesses and tears and laughter (chortles that made his belly hurt if he kept it up for too long and guffaws that made him choke on his food and drink at mealtime and giggles that escaped no matter how hard he forced them down),  _ real _ laughter, was the day Leon stabbed him in the tail with a dagger.

Life before that had been colorless and drab. Just sitting in a cave with nothing but the knowledge that he was better than the world outside.

Sometimes, if he felt like changing his routine up, he might peek his head around the corner to look at the sky reflected in a pool of stagnant rain water.

Now, he could see the sky everyday, if he wanted to. And he did.

Leon tells him that his eyes look like the sky.

Raihan thinks differently. No, his eyes are too green to ever be part of the sky; they might not be too out of place in the ocean, out there in the east where the water was warm and shallow.

The molten gold of Leon's eyes, though, seemed to echo back to the light of the sunset that streamed into Raihan's cave every afternoon. 

Leon and Raihan. Raihan and Leon. The kingdom whispered about how inseparable they were. How Raihan was his most trusted knight, his oldest ally. There were other, more distasteful whispers, but Raihan ignores them.

They're not true, so why bother?

He's  _ super _ alright with the current talks of an engagement in the works for Leon. He's king, so of course he'd need a queen. Human's were pretty obsessed with their lineage, for some reason, and it's always pissed Raihan off a bit, so it's normal that he might be a bit sour about it now.

It's not  _ personal _ .

It's not his job either, so he doesn't care about it at all. That's why he leaves the meeting rooms whenever these talks are discussed. He has better things to do. Stuff to oversee.

Anyway, he's not  _ afraid _ of losing Leon. The two of them are inseparable. Stuck together by the machinations of fate and the fae.

Opal said that when their hearts were given to each other, fully and completely, the jewels on the dagger would turn completely red.

The hilt's been glowing an unmistakable scarlet, so Raihan isn't too worried.

Their friendship is just  _ that _ strong!

—

Whispers have gone around the kingdom, unheard by the ears of the court.

Whispers of rebellion, of dissent, of rioting, and protest. Of  _ action _ .

They say that King Leon's too soft on the former regent. That Rose has been acting in the shadows, working with dark and forgotten magic. They say he and his assistant are using fae to wicked ends. Changeling magic, people whisper, when the strange earthquakes hit the kingdom harder and Rose's smile grows wider.

Rebellion is a tricky thing to start. You never know who's listening, who might blab to some higher authorities.

(They never notice the shadowy figure who sits at the table, flagon of ale untouched. The shadowy, flickering figure with red, glowing eyes.) 

(Nobody ever notices her.)

The conversation is so routine these days. The same complaints about the softness of the current king, his ignorance of the true colors of those surrounding him. Corruption in the courts translates down to corruption in the marketplace. 

They've all seen the rising prices.

Someone always interjects that Leon's rule has brought stability, prosperity to the land like none seen before. True, they all acknowledge.

When was the last time you saw a corrupt official ousted from court? Punished? Laws amended? When did you last see a penny filching noble steal pocket the taxes of the poor? See a mother wait hours in line to feed her children for another day, while someone lucky enough to be born rich eats enough food to feed a village in a day? Last week? Yesterday? Today?

Yeah, taking down slave markets was good. So was posing for portraits, and making speeches, vanquishing sheep eating beasts, and telling village children to "Never give up!"

This kingdom was renowned for its beauty? Peace? That's great. It really is.

But what good was it to have a pretty country when it was poisoned, venom sunk deep into its veins. It was dying, with every day that passed, as another family was thrown into poverty by this system, that only favoured the rich.

By now, the institutions this very country operated on were far too corrupt to simply fix with apologies and slaps on the wrist. When the foundations of a home are worm eaten and rotten, you don't simply slap a  _ patch _ on it. You don't paint over it and pretend nothing's wrong.

You tear the goddamn foundations out, because they're  _ unfixable _ . You rebuild, with new materials.

Leon, for all his good, has already developed an incurable weakness for Rose. He's already demonstrated his capacity for oversight, oversight of issues that everyone else saw.

The question of who will lead after always comes up, and people always flinch. They always freeze, shut up like someone's spirited their tongue away.

Who will lead? Leon's been the best king they've had, he's nigh unbeatable in all he's done. Were he a worse man, he might have had the whole world in his grasp.

He may not be perfect, but at least he was merciful. Too merciful, many argue.

Candidates are presented, hesitantly, as the huddled masses huddle even closer. 

"...Leon's second in command?" Someone glares at the presenter of such a bold claim. Are you stupid? You've seen them, right? He would never agree with a coup, and sooner slice your head off for the gall of suggesting it.

"Piers?" A quiet voice peeps out in a hushed whisper. Of Spikemuth? No, although he holds no particularly close ties nor alliances to the king, he had his own issues to deal with. His territory had been hit particularly hard by the frost, and taxes to the kingdom were exacerbating it. Not to mention, his interests seemed to lie more in music than politics, to begin with.

"Sonia? The daughter of the court wizard?" Muttering in the crowd. Perhaps. She's certainly smart, willing to work with and listen to the needs of commoners. She makes an excellent advisor as she is now, doing her best to herd Leon into making decisions with the interest of the kingdom in mind. But could she lead?

More arguing. Infighting.

Rebellions are hard to plan, indeed.

The cloaked figure in the corner has had enough. It rises in a sweeping motion, almost spectral in its fluidity, and approaches the crowd.

They freeze in fear. Of course they do. Who could this be? A palace spy? Royal sympathizer?

"What about Hop?"

A voice sounds out from under the hood. It's young and clear. Distinctly feminine, but perhaps this is a young boy. Could be.

The crowd mutters, louder.

Hop? Hop who? The brother of the king, seriously?

But he has his merits. His blood, for one, makes him a strong contender already.

Few have seen the prince in person. He mostly lives with his family in Wedgehurst, herding sheep, living a commoner's life. He's similar to Leon in every aspect, from his appearance to his kind demeanor.

Unlike Leon, though, adolescence spent under the scrutiny of nobility has forced him to develop a much stronger distrust of the upper echelons. An incident with some former nobility had caused him to pursue study under Sonia, the royal advisor, and the boy has learned much about court intrigue.

Still, would he be good enough? Would he not just be a second Leon in the making?

Hop is still tender of age. Sixteen, barely a man.

But Leon himself was ten when he was crowned, others argue. 

The tide seems to be turning to this dark horse candidate. 

He's still much of a mystery. Too much, in fact.

Though they worry about Rose, and his machinations with supernatural forces, Hop himself has been seen wandering in the early with a large, pitch black wolf with glowing red eyes. Hop says it's merely his pet dog, Gloria. 

She helps him herd the sheep

Of course, rumors swirl about Leon's second-in-command. Is he truly a dragon, as they say? Not to mention, Piers and his hobby of dabbling in the dark arts is common knowledge, and Sonia herself is the daughter of the court wizard.

The dog and her mysteries are soon forgotten in the rising debate over whether involvement in the occult invalidates all the presented candidates or not.

—

Raihan moves out of Hammerlocke before 1977 is over.

He leaves with the summer vacationers. It's much harder to notice a lone person departing in a crowd.

He never leaves in the winter. It's a habit he's developed, to leave before the first snow. Leaves no tracks to follow, doing it like that. 

He spends the next few decades hanging around the rest of the region. He doesn't have a passport, so going outside the country's impossible, but Galar's big enough and no one's looking for him hard enough. 

You don't make many friends that way, and that's just the way he wants it. Friends only nose around and ask questions.

It's lonely and it sucks, but it's better than nothing. At least his apartment always has a window facing the setting sun. At least he still has the dagger with him, just in case.

Don't worry. Things aren't all bad.

Humans always invent the oddest of things, and though Opal still scoffs at it all, Raihan loves to see what new toys they've made. From roller skates and phonographs to walkmans and little phones that fit in your pocket, he's always made sure to hop onto the bandwagon. 

Recently, social media's been his latest obsession. Okay, maybe scattering selfies over the internet when you're an unaging immortal trying to stay hidden might not be the best idea ever, but everyone needs a hobby.

While Opal has knitting and being weird, Raihan has gym selfies and a slowly growing collection of antiques that he keeps in a storage unit. (He's too sentimental to get rid of all the crap he keeps buying, but it all has to go somewhere.)

It all started as a weird hobby, something to help him keep track of the days when living grew monotonous. A couple food pictures here and there, the sunset when he was lucky to catch a good picture of it. It was just a fun thing to remind him what had happened the day before, something to show him that there was a reason to look forward to the endless days ahead.

And then he began actually  _ posting _ .

Between his regular posting schedule and the occasional selfies he posted, his following grew a little too large for his liking. It was hard to disappear when a thousand or so people knew who he was and what he's been doing recently.

Opal complains sometimes, saying that he's taking security risks that are far too large in this unpredictable era. Bede just calls him an attention whore.

But whatever, right? No one actually knows him personally. He doesn't put his name out there, and he never takes pictures that anyone might use to track him down.

He never returns to a town he's lived in until at least a couple of decades have passed. Usually more. Keeps people from recognizing him too easily.

Hammerlocke's a special place, though. 

If Raihan had to call a city home, it'd definitely be Hammerlocke. That was where his mountain had stood all those centuries ago, and where he's lived the longest at. It's where he keeps all his old stuff stored, and where he always tells nosy coworkers he was born. It was where he'd run off to, after Leon had—

There's a lot of memories in this place.

—

He's barista-ing at a coffee shop, a small family-owned kind of place that he's noticed has quickly become a dying breed in Hammerlocke. It's hard to find little places like these, quiet and homely. 

The owners don't ask too many questions, and the customers are almost all locals. They're pleasant to talk to, and if he reminds them of anyone from decades ago, they don't say. 

It's almost closing time, the sun lazily making its way down the horizon. Coffee shops like this are even emptier in the summer, so working hours are longer to compensate. Raihan's paid by the hour, so he isn't complaining.

The door chimes ring.

Seriously? It's almost closing time.

Raihan turns back to the customer, biting back curses and fumbling to get his face into something customer service worthy, when he freezes. 

Golden eyes, the color of the sunset, stare at him apologetically.

"Oh shit, are you already closed? I can come back tomorrow, like, I'm super sorry if I'm bothering you. The sign out there still says open, uh, I can flip it over on my way back if you want—" He's fidgeting with a ponytail full of long purple hair, a stupid backwards snapback wobbling precariously under his tugging.

Raihan takes the time to straighten his face and his voice.

"No! N-no, we're still open. We close in ten minutes, but you can stay to finish your drink, if you want. C-can I, uh, take your order...?"

He walks over to the counter where Raihan's standing, and Raihan's knuckles tighten on the ballpoint pen. Just act cool, act normal, act calm—

"Well, if I'm really not troubling you—If I am, don't hesitate to tell me, I know how annoying it is when someone shows up at the very end of my shift."

"No, you're not bothering me at all!"

"Well, in that case, I heard this place makes pretty good tea. I'll get a medium—Hey, you look familiar!"

Raihan freezes. He's been freezing quite a lot it seems.

"I...do?" 

(Don't sound too hopeful, he thinks to himself.)

"Yeah, I think my brother follows you online! You're the guy who does all those selfies, right? What's your name?"

"It's Raihan... You can call me Raihan." 

He didn't have to ask. It's on the nametag.

"Raihan! What a cool name! Sounds familiar, actually."

He moves as if to shake Raihan's hand, before realizing that Raihan's were busy writing down his order. He laughs.

"Well, Raihan, my name's Leon. Nice to meet you!"

"...Leon."

Raihan tries to suppress a shuddering breath. He smiles instead.

"That sounds familiar, too."

—

The clouds are dark and heavy when Raihan finally returns from his visit to Hulbury. Lightning flashes from far away, in the distant mountains. Something in his gut lurches at the sight.

His grip on the reigns tighten. The dagger on his belt feels uncomfortably heavy as his horse gallops through the forests, twigs snagging at his cloak like a million reaching hands.

His steed whinnies at the crack of thunder, and speeds up.

There's a storm brewing.

—

Leon asks Raihan out first.

He's been visiting the coffee shop almost every day that month. Raihan's coworkers have been prodding about it, asking whether they were dating or how they knew each other. He laughs and deflects.

Leon finally gets his phone number by the end of the summer. He's in business school or something, but he's free in the night to chat.

They talk a lot, and on weekends they hang out.

Leon takes Raihan to meet his family. He lives with his parents and grandparents in a townhouse out in sleepy Postwick. The town used to be one of the country's largest sources of wool, but most of the old farmers moved to the cities when the economy tanked. Leon's family lives in a big old house, by an old pasture that might have housed sheep, years and years ago.

Leon has a little brother named Hop. Raihan flinches a little when he hears the name.

"Weird question, but uh, does Hop have a dog?"

As it turns out, Hop doesn't have a dog, but he does have a neighbor named Gloria. She's Hop's age, and his best friend.

The two of them have never set foot outside of Postwick, so Leon volunteers both himself and Raihan to take the two kids to the zoo in Hammerlocke for a day.

Keeping track of two excitable kids in the middle of a huge city might be the worst thing Raihan's had to do for the last couple centuries, maybe even worse than that one decade he spent accidentally bricked up in someone's basement. Hop never stops talking for a single second on the train there, and Gloria, despite being rather silent in comparison, is practically vibrating in excitement as they weave through the crowds.

When they finally get to the zoo, it's even worse. The moment the tickets are paid for and they all step through the gates, Hop pulls Gloria by the hand as he takes off in search of one exhibit or another, as Leon and Raihan trail behind, fruitlessly trying to catch up.

Raihan takes the fleeting moments he spots them to observe the two.

Hop is almost exactly like how Raihan remembers him when he was younger. Cheerful, enthusiastic, and energetic. He still loves sheep, it seems, as Raihan watches him chase one around the petting zoo.

Gloria's a complete mystery. From what Leon's told him, she and her mother moved into the old house by the Slumbering Weald ages ago, back when she and Hop were tots. Leon doesn't know where they lived before that.

She seems to be human.

Raihan begins to wonder if this is normal friend stuff, meeting each other's families and going to their hometowns. He hasn't exactly made any friends in the last couple centuries.

Raihan doesn't have a home or family to show Leon, but he introduces Leon to his coworkers, Piers and Sonia. They rent a movie and watch it at Raihan's apartment. Leon stays over when it ends. Since Raihan doesn't own a couch, they share the mattress.

His coworkers ask him if they're dating yet and Raihan wonders what makes them think that.

When summer ends, the two of them decide to watch the annual meteor shower. The local observatory is packed to the gills. When they get there, late because Raihan made the sore mistake of letting Leon navigate, there's only one seat left. It's big enough that the both of them fit, shoulder to shoulder, their legs all tangled up.

The reddening leaves and plummeting temperatures give Leon more opportunities to visit Raihan at the coffee shop. He's always the first to show up and the last to during Raihan's shifts on the weekends, and even when he has class, he manages to pop in at every chance he gets.

They hang out in their free time quite a bit, too.

Leon doesn't have too many friends in the Hammerlocke, and Raihan doesn't have too many friends at all, so it's inevitable. They go to a traveling fair to compete to see who can get the most stuffed toys, and when they're riding the ferris wheel together, Raihan looks at Leon in the light of the setting sun and wonders if his heart should be beating this fast if they're just friends.

He wonders this every second he's with Leon, and every second he's without. He thinks about it at night, before he sleeps, wondering if the red leaching into the hilt of the dagger is his imagination or not.

He doesn't have to wonder long.

In the winter, Leon asks him out.

It's snowing, and Raihan can see their footprints, side by side, in the fresh snowfall. They've gone out to get ice cream, and though he's not a big fan of cold stuff, he likes sharing his orange creamsicle with Leon.

Leon's expectant eyes shine in the yellow glow of the streetlamps. He looks ephemeral in the light, like one of the many snowflakes floating down. Like he might disappear any minute now, like a dream.

He's already disappeared once.

Of course Raihan says yes.

He isn't going to lose Leon ever again.

—

The castle gates are open.

They shouldn't be open.

The rain's begun to pour, a gentle drizzle as Raihan bolts inside the castle. The torches are guttering, and the empty hallways seem to waver in the flickering light.

It's quiet, like a mausoleum.

—

Raihan manages to make up a fictional birthday before they've spent a year together. He doesn't know exactly when it was that he met Leon for the first time, but it was sometime in the summer.

He picks June, and rolls a die for a day. He says he's a couple of years older than Leon, which is technically true.

They celebrate his birthday at Leon's apartment. He tells Raihan to close his eyes for a moment, and when he opens his eyes, Leon's turned the lights off and taken out a birthday cake. 

It's lumpy and very obviously handmade, and Raihan wonders whether Leon has ever baked anything in his life. He still loves it.

There's a crude icing image of a dragon, and Raihan would have blanched if it wasn't for the fact that he had told Leon in some passing, inane conversation, a month ago, that dragons were his favorite fantasy animal.

("Dragons... That makes sense!" Leon had agreed, nodding his head. At Raihan's confused glance, he mumbled, "I like dragons, too.")

The cake is chocolate flavoured (and salty, for some reason), and Raihan enjoys a polite slice while Leon presents him with a birthday gift.

"Well, I know you got me that really cool crown snapback for my birthday last time, so I decided to get you something to match!"

_ Please not a matching hat _ , Raihan prays to whatever deities exist for dragons, because he's got an established Look tm and snapbacks aren't really it. Not that he'd ever refuse it, he'd just bury it somewhere in his closet and never look at it unless Leon was over. He'd put it on the hatrack, in that case. 

But never  _ look _ at it.

Leon, to his credit, doesn't procure a hat from his gift-bag. Instead, he pulls out a navy windbreaker and hands it to Raihan.

Well, not too shabby—especially for Leon and his questionable fashion taste. 

The pattern of it resembles a toothy lizard, or maybe a dragon, and when he tries it on…

"Wow! I look pretty sharp in this!"

Leon's over the moon, his face glowing in pride. "Exactly! See, I know your fashion sense, Raihan, and I got it from where you got my hat so we can match now!"

Raihan replies with a quick peck on the lips that leaves Leon a blushing wreck, and takes a quick commemorative selfie with him.

"G-Glad to see you l-like it…"

God, his boyfriend was way too cute!

—

There's only a single guard.

She stands at the entrance to the courtyard, shield on one art and sword sheathed. Her form seems to flicker with the flashes of lightning from outside, and she only gives Raihan an acknowledging nod before walking past him.

There's an iron tang of blood in the air as she drifts away. He's stuck between wanting to chase her down or run into the courtyard.

Outside, the storm worsens.

As he runs through the courtyard gates, he hears a voice whisper, almost unheard over the rumbling thunder.

"Sorry."

Raihan steps into the courtyard, and the smell of blood only strengthens. There's a paw print, as large as a dinner plate, pressed deep into the mud.

The rain's relentless, though, and it's been half washed away by the time he finds it. The rain's washed away almost all of the blood, too.

—

7 AM.

Leon's woken up in record time, shuffling out of the bedroom with a serious bedhead and boxers a size too small. He's only half awake until he gets a good whiff of the food, bacon in the pan and eggs plated on the table.

"Ooh, omelettes!"

He loops his arms around Raihan's neck, bringing him in for a good morning kiss.

Raihan swats his hand away from the bacon.

"You're going to burn yourself again, idiot. Just wait a bit. I'm almost done."

Raihan's watching something on the telly as he finishes up the bacon. Another one of those historical fantasy things, with fairies and dragons and whatnot. They've been showing them on loop since the news finished, and basic cable's all he can afford at the moment.

Leon pulls up a chair and begins to messily devour the omelettes Raihan's made. He looks at the television screen, sees the shitty, low-budget battle, and looks back at his food.

"Do you ever think about, I don't know, your previous life?"

"...No. Not really." This was true, technically. He's just lived one very long life, that's all.

Leon continues, his voice soft. "Sometimes I dream about being a knight or king. You're there too, Raihan. You're always there."

"What do you remember?"

"Remember what? Are you talking about my dreams?"

"I don't know... anything you remember."

Leon thinks for a second, silent. He looks up, and looks at Raihan, really  _ looks _ at Raihan, as if this is the first time he's seen him before.

"...You never took me to see the sunset over Hulbury, did you? Did you think I'd forget about that?"

Raihan smiles.

—

The bathroom mirror's all fogged up. Leon always takes long showers, no matter how much Raihan complains about the bills, but in this kind of weather, it didn't hurt to crank the temperature as far down as humanly bearable.

Raihan swiped with mist on the mirror away to look at himself. His reflection smiles, sleep deprived and sweaty.

In the flickering fluorescent light, he sees a single grey hair. 

—

The dagger lies in Hulbury harbour somewhere, buried under the gentle waves and settling sands. He'd thrown it there the moment the jewels adorning its hilt turned red.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find my art at http://pachimation.tumblr.com and I also have a twitter (@pachimation), although I post pretty sporadically there
> 
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated, and thank you for reading!


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